Columbia  (Mnit)erj8(ttp 
inttieCttpoflftngork 

THE  LIBRARIES 


Bequest  of 

Frederic  Bancroft 

1860-1945 


JOSHUA  AUGUSTUS   SWAN 


3n  iWemortam 


JANUARY  i8,  1823—  OCTOBER  31.   1871 


CAMBRIDGE 

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CONTENTS. 


PAGE 

Biographical  Sketch i 

Commemorative  Notices 24 

Selections  from  Unpublished  Poems  : 

The  Song  of  the  South  Wind 31 

The  Equinox 34 

Longings 36 

Christmas  Festival 38 

At  Sea,  September,  1868 39 

London 41 


JOSHUA   A.    SWAN. 


My  dear  Children  :  — 

I  give  you  here  a  few  memorials  of  a  life 
which  ended  before  any  of  you  could  appre- 
ciate its  strength  or  its  sweetness. 

Your  father  was  strong  in  his  love  of  truth 
and  right,  and  he  was  full  of  that  "  sweetness 
and  light "  which  comes  from  cherishing  the 
high  ideals  that  consecrate  the  inner  life.  Ever 
ready  to  sympathize  with  the  feelings  and 
wants  of  others,  he  habitually  preferred  their 
interests  to  his  own,  with  a  forgetfulness  of 
self  which  is  rarely  exemplified  to  such  a 
degree.  He  had  a  directness  and  simplicity 
of  manner  which  always  inspired  confidence. 
This  was  perhaps  an  inheritance  from  his 
plain,  industrious  ancestors  of  the  true  New 
England  type. 

They  were  among  the  first  settlers  of  Me- 
thuen.  His  grandfather,  Joshua  Swan,  was 
born    there    July    12,    1755.     When  not    yet 


2  yOSHUA   A.    SWAN 

twenty  years  old,  he  took  part  in  the  battle  of 
Bunker  Hill.  As  the  troops  marched  up  the 
sloping  hillside,  probably  not  many  of  them,  at 
that  exciting  moment,  noticed  that  the  turf  be- 
neath their  feet  was  blue  with  violets.  Joshua 
stooped  to  pick  one,  and  placed  it  in  his  hat, 
—  an  incident  that  suggests  the  lack  of  uni- 
form drill  among  those  raw  recruits.  Little 
time  was  there  to  note  the  changed  color  of 
the  turf  when  they  descended  that  flowery  hill- 
side !  But  the  associations  of  the  day  were 
not  forgotten  by  Joshua  Swan,  who  had  the 
poetic  instincts  which  reappeared  in  his  grand- 
son. He  never  let  the  anniversary  of  that 
battle  pass  without  wearing  a  violet  in  his 
buttonhole  to  celebrate  the  day. 

He  served  in  eight  campaigns,  and  was 
three  years  connected  with  Washington's  own 
army,  in  various  capacities.  He  was  proud  of 
having  often  shod  the  General's  horse.  He 
narrowly  escaped  death  at  the  battle  of  Brandy- 
wine,  and  was  at  West  Point  at  the  time  of 
Arnold's  treachery.  At  the  close  of  the  war, 
he  entered  a  claim  for  a  longer  term  of  service 
than  any  other  man  in  Essex  County. 

He  married,  in  1787,  Deborah  Burbank,  and 
had  five  sons  and  four  daughters.     His  grand- 


yOSHUA   A.   SWAN  3 

children  delighted  in  hearing  him  relate  his 
experiences  in  the  war.  On  August  i,  1844, 
about  fifty  of  his  children  and  grandchildren 
gathered  round  him  at  a  party  in  the  woods. 
His  health  and  faculties  were  then  unimpaired. 
The  next  year  he  died,  at  nearly  the  age  of 
ninety,  March  25,  1845. 

His  oldest  son,  Joshua,  your  grandfather, 
was  born  January  10,  1788,  at  Methuen,  where 
he  attended  school  and  was  apprenticed  to  a 
master  carpenter.  He  soon  proved  himself  a 
very  energetic  young  man,  ready  with  his  help 
where  it  was  needed ;  and  all  his  brothers  and 
sisters  were  at  some  time  assisted  by  him.  In 
18 1 6  he  went  to  Waltham,  and  entered  the  em- 
ployment of  Theodore  Lyman,  who  had  just 
established  cotton-mills  at  that  place.  At  the 
house  where  he  boarded  he  met  Olive  Jones, 
of  Lancaster,  who  was  visiting  her  sister,  and 
they  soon  became  engaged. 

She  must  have  been  a  very  beautiful  woman 
then,  for  she  was  still  beautiful  in  her  old  age, 
with  a  beauty  which  was  not  wholly  due  to  her 
regular  features  and  expressive  dark  eyes.  It 
was  the  sweetness  and  serenity  of  her  dispo- 
sition, and  her  self-forgetting  thoughtfulness 
for  others,  which  invested  her  with  a  peculiar 


4  yOSHUA   A.   SWAN 

charm  to  the  very  close  of  her  life,  in  1892,  in 
her  ninety-eighth  year. 

They  were  married  at  Lancaster  on  Thanks- 
giving day,  December  3,  181 7,  and  went  di- 
rectly to  Waltham,  where  they  lived  until  the 
removal  of  the  company  to  Lowell,  early  in  the 
year  1824.  Their  first  child  died  in  infancy ; 
Maria  was  born  July  24,  182 1,  and  Joshua 
Augustus,  January  18,  1823. 

In  Lowell,  Mr.  Swan  took  contracts  for 
building  machinery,  and  had  the  direction  of  a 
large  workshop.  After  living  several  years  in 
houses  belonging  to  the  company,  and  after 
two  more  children  were  born  (Albert  G.,  May 
26,  1826,  and  Sarah  J.,  July  21,  1828),  they 
moved  in  1830  into  the  house  which  was  to  be 
the  family  homestead  for  sixty  years.  Here 
their  youngest  child,  Charles  Walter,  was  born, 
February  6,  1838. 

The  house,  which  was  of  three  stories  and 
in  the  old  colonial  style,  was  built  by  Mr.  Hale, 
the  owner  of  extensive  powder-mills  on  the 
Concord  River.  It  was  situated  on  high  land, 
with  a  fine  view  of  the  open  country.  The 
estate  contained  nineteen  acres  of  land,  and 
for  many  years  the  farm,  orchard,  and  garden 
were  very  productive. 


yOSHUA  A.   SWAN  5 

When  I  first  knew  the  place,  in  1850,  Hale's 
Brook  ran  by  between  green  banks  to  the 
beautiful  Concord  River,  which  flowed  under 
fine  large  trees  at  the  base  of  Fort  Hill.  A  pic- 
turesque foot-bridge  with  a  stone  arch  spanned 
the  river;  and  the  winding  foot-path  along 
the  bank  was  fringed  with  the  abundant  wild- 
flowers  of  the  region,  from  the  early  violet  to 
the  late  cardinal  flower.  The  low  roofs  of  the 
powder- works  scarcely  marred  the  rural  aspect, 
but  they  were  the  entering  wedges  which  led 
to  the  total  destruction  of  the  woods  and  the 
wild  beauty  of  the  locality. 

Mr.  Swan  took  a  prominent  position  in  the 
rapidly  growing  town  of  Lowell.  He  was 
selectman  several  years,  president  of  the  Me- 
chanics' Association,  1834-35,  alderman  in 
1837,  representative  to  the  General  Court  in 
1839,  and  county  commissioner  from  1848  to 
185 1.  His  energy,  good  sense,  and  perfect 
integrity  were  recognized  by  the  community, 
and  he  was  held  in  high  esteem.  He  died 
April  21,  1867. 

His  children  were  educated  in  the  public 
schools,  and  the  boys  were  then  expected  to 
learn  trades.  In  reference  to  Joshua,  Mr.  W. 
J.  Rolfe  has  recently  written :    "  We  were  to- 


6  yOSHUA   A.    SWAN 

gether  at  the  Lowell   High  School.     He  was 
one  of  the  older  boys,  yet  I  remember  his  per- 
sonal appearance  distinctly,  perhaps  because  I 
had  a  great  admiration  for  him.     He  was  one 
of  the  boys  to  whom  I  looked  up  with  a  genu- 
ine respect.     It  did  not  surprise  me  that  he 
became  a  clergyman."     At  the  age  of  sixteen 
he  reluctantly  gave  up  his  studies  and  entered 
the  machine-shop,  working  full  time  with  the 
other  apprentices.     He  remained  there  a  year, 
and  his  father  wished  him  to  continue  longer, 
but  too  many  thoughts  and  feelings  were  stir- 
ring in  his  head  and  heart  to   allow  him   to 
be  content  with   any  handicraft.     His  mother 
watched  with  anxiety  his  growing  discontent, 
and  used  her  influence  to  persuade  his  father 
to  give  him  a  college  education.    He  never  re- 
gretted the  time  spent  in  learning  the  use  of 
tools,  which  afforded  him  in  after  years  many 
hours  of  pleasant  relaxation. 

Early  in  1841,  some  of  his  friends  proposed 
to  go  to  a  Quaker  school  kept  by  Moses  Cram 
at  Clinton  Grove,  in  Weare,  N.  H.,  and  Joshua 
was  allowed  to  join  them  and  remain  a  year. 
It  was  a  happy  year  of  study  and  of  thought 
amidst  genial  influences  of  nature  and  of 
friends.     And  ever  after  he  loved  to  recall  the 


JOSHUA   A.    SWAN  7 

kindness  of  "  Moses "  (so  the  teacher  was 
always  called),  who  saw  that  the  boys  were 
in  earnest  about  learning,  and  allowed  them 
many  liberties.  They  often  took  their  books 
into  the  woods  to  study,  or  laid  them  aside  for 
a  long  stroll.  Here  his  talent  for  poetry  began 
to  develop,  and  his  religious  views  to  take  on 
more  definite  shape. 

The  subjects  of  the  simple  verses  written  at 
this  time  show  the  tendency  of  his  thought 
and  feelings  :  "  Contemplation,"  "  Gethsem- 
ane,"  "  Ye  must  be  born  again."  He  had  been 
brought  up  in  the  Episcopal  Church,  where  at- 
tendance on  two  Sunday  services  was  required 
besides  two  sessions  of  the  Sunday-school. 
The  good  Dr.  Edson  frequently  examined  the 
pupils  himself,  and  Joshua  respected  the  fine 
character  of  that  venerable  man,  but  soon  be- 
gan to  question  some  of  his  points  of  doctrine. 
Then  the  works  of  Theodore  Parker  fell  into 
his  hands,  and  were  read  with  intense  satisfac- 
tion. They  solved  many  of  his  doubts,  and 
opened  his  mind  to  the  free  study  and  love  of 
truth.  He  ever  after  looked  up  to  Parker 
with  deep  gratitude  and  reverence  as  his  spir- 
itual teacher  and  guide.  Yet  he  did  not,  like 
Parker,  assume  an  attitude  of  antagonism  to 


8  JOSHUA   A.    SWAN 

other  views.  His  nature  was  too  gentle  for 
sarcasm,  too  forbearing  to  judge  others  with 
severity. 

Preparation  for  college  was  made  in  Lowell 
under  the  direction  of  Mr.  Jewett  and  Dr. 
Hoppin.  He  came  to  Cambridge  to  continue 
his  studies  in  January,  1842;  On  March  6, 
he  was  baptized  and  admitted  to  the  Austin 
Street  Church,  and  entered  college  the  same 
year. 

Mr.  F.  P.  Appleton,  his  schoolmate  and 
early  friend,  has  recently  written  :  "  Well  as  I 
knew  him,  it  was  only  in  later  years  that  I  saw 
the  uncommon  power  and  width  of  his  brain, 
and  that  he  could  do  anything  he  chose  to  do, 
—  in  poetry,  in  science,  or  in  practical  work. 
But  there  was  always  the  modest,  quiet,  gen- 
tle manner,  the  same  kind,  low  voice,  the  same 
friend,  and  the  same  friendship."  And  Mrs. 
Appleton  adds  :  "  We  often  recall  those  old 
times,  almost  seeing  again  his  bright  smile, 
and  hearing  his  ready  repartee." 

While  in  college  he  had  little  ambition  for 
rank  in  the  prescribed  studies.  The  elective 
system  was  not  then  established,  and  not  much 
prominence  was  given  to  his  favorite  studies, 
history  and   literature.      He  joined   with  his 


JOSHUA   A.    SWAN  9 

friend  John  Austin  Stevens  in  pursuing  them. 
They  had  large  note-books  ruled  for  historical 
tables,  and  they  made  copious  extracts  from 
their  favorite  authors,  —  Carlyle,  Goethe,  Aris- 
totle, Richter,  Schiller,  Lessing,  Addison,  Scott, 
Bulwer,  T.  Parker,  etc.  They  made,  also,  lists 
of  books  to  be  read  on  the  relis:ions  of  the 
world,  and  other  subjects,  and  abstracts  of  col- 
lege lectures  by  Longfellow  and  Felton. 

On  graduation,  in  1846,  J.  A.  Swan  was  the 
class  poet  and  F.  J.  Child  the  orator.  Pro- 
fessor Longfellow's  diary  has  this  notice  of  the 
occasion:  "July  16,  Class  Day.  The  oration 
by  Child  extremely  good.  .  .  .  The  poem  was 
by  Swan,  with  great  skill  in  versification,  and 
more  poetry  in  it  than  in  any  college  poem  I 
remember." 

One  of  his  classmates  urged  him  to  publish 
some  of  his  poems,  and  offered  to  attend  to 
the  business.  A  small  volume  appeared,  with 
the  title  of  "  Prophecy  of  the  Santon  and  other 
Poems."  It  won  approval  from  Mr.  Longfel- 
low and  other  critics,  but  did  not  attract  gen- 
eral attention. 

The  summer  of  1846  was  memorable  to 
him  for  a  journey  through  the  woods  of  Maine 
with  J.  Austin  Stevens.     Taking  a  guide  and 


lO  JOSHUA   A.    SWAN 

canoes,  they  penetrated  the  wilderness  from 
the  Penobscot  to  Quebec.  Their  adventures, 
entered  into  with  the  enthusiasm  of  youth, 
never  lost  their  charm  when  recalled  in  after 
years. 

In  the  autumn  he  entered  the  Divinity 
School,  and  deeply  enjoyed  his  three  years  of 
study  in  the  companionship  of  dear  friends, 
of  whom  Samuel  Longfellow  was  one,  and 
another,  F.  P.  Appleton,  who  long  after  thus 
refers  to  this  period :  "  As  I  walk  up  Divinity 
Hall  Avenue  now,  I  ask  myself,  Where  has  the 
glamour  gone  ?  Was  this  cold,  commonplace 
scene  Eden  once?  And  is  it  so  now  to  any 
living  soul }  Perhaps,  if  such  friendships  as  I 
once  knew  still  survive." 

But  your  father's  most  intimate  friend  at  this 
time  and  ever  after  was  Richard  Manning 
Hodges,  Jr.  He  frequently  went  to  see  him 
in  their  college  days  at  his  little  study  in  the 
wing  of  his  father's  house  on  Waterhouse 
Street,  but  without  meeting  others  of  the  fam- 
ily. He  had  acquired  a  habit  of  avoiding 
society,  and  was  usually  regarded  as  some- 
what of  a  hermit.  He  had  resolved,  however, 
to  seek  the  acquaintance  of  Richard's  sister, 
when  by  accident  they  met  at  a  lecture,  and,  at 


JOSHUA   A.    SWAN  II 

the  close  of  it,  shook  hands  without  introduc- 
tion, walked  home  together,  and  soon  became 
friends.  This  was  in  September,  1849.  He 
then  had  rooms  in  the  old  house  of  Royal 
Morse,  situated  where  Austin  Hall  Law 
School  building  now  stands. 

He  had  begun  to  preach,  and  was  absorbed 
in  reading  and  sermon  writing.  The  works  of 
Coleridge  and  Newman  are  mentioned  in  his 
diary.  In  the  evenings,  he  frequently  visited 
his  friends  on  the  opposite  side  of  the  com- 
mon. Needing  a  bookcase,  he  went  to  Low- 
ell, and,  with  his  brother  Albert's  help,  built 
one  in  two  days  in  the  old  workshop  over  the 
shed,  which,  with  its  three  picturesque  arches, 
then  connected  the  house  and  barn.  The  shed 
and  barn  were  burnt  by  lightning  September 
I,  1873.  The  old  home  was  a  haven  to  which 
he  frequently  returned  all  through  his  life,  and 
always  found  welcome  and  refreshment.  The 
elms,  which  have  long  overtopped  the  roof, 
were  saplings  brought  and  planted  by  his 
hands. 

After  preaching  several  times  in  North  An- 
dover,  he  was  invited  to  Kennebunk,  Me.,  and 
accepted  a  call  to  remain  there.  The  cor- 
respondence   then    began    which    led    to   our 


12  JOSHUA   A.    SWAN 

engagement  after  his  return  to  Cambridge, 
on  January  i,  1850. 

With  my  father  and  several  friends  I  went 
to  his  ordination  on  February  6,  1850.  In  his 
diary  he  writes  :  "  February  7.  Yesterday  my 
commencement  was  beautiful.  No  one  could 
have  fairer  prospects.  Let  me  then  go  to  my 
work  strongly  and  trustfully.  Though  some- 
what lonely,  I  feel  very  cheerful,  and  begin 
already  to  feel  that  Kennebunk  is  my  home. 
May  I  be  useful  here ! " 

"  February  19.  Love  my  place  here  better 
and  better.  There  is  a  cordial  kindness  among 
the  people  that  wins  me  entirely,  and  makes  me 
resolved  to  do  all  in  my  power  to  help  them." 

"  February  24.  Preaching  has  seemed  to- 
day like  real  earnest,  and  therefore  pleasant 
work.  I  felt  after  the  service  as  if  I  were 
really  a  worker  in  Christ's  vineyard,  and  had 
the  means  of  doing  some  good  in  the  world." 

Two  sermons  a  week  had  to  be  written,  and 
an  address  prepared  for  a  weekly  evening  meet- 
ing. 

But  preaching  is  only  one  of  the  various 
duties  of  a  country  minister.  He  visited  the 
schools  constantly,  and  made  a  continual  round 
of  calls  upon  the  people,  taking  a  deep  inter- 


JOSHUA   A.   SWAN  1 3 

est  in  the  pursuits  and  the  experiences  of  all. 
For  recreation  he  pursued  the  study  of  natural 
history.  He  calls  Lyell's  works  "  a  grand 
preface  to  a  grand  study,  —  Nature's  Auto- 
biography." 

One  Sunday  in  each  month  he  exchanged 
pulpits  with  Rev.  J.  T.  G.  Nichols,  of  Saco, 
and  the  previous  week  was  usually  passed  at 
my  father's  house  in  Cambridge. 

My  family  became  much  attached  to  him, 
and  their  love  for  him  made  the  parting  with 
their  daughter  less  hard  to  bear.  Our  mar- 
riage took  place  April  i6,  1851,  the  day  of  that 
fearful  storm  which  swept  away  the  lighthouse 
on  Minot's  Ledge,  an  open  structure  of  iron 
which  had  only  lasted  as  long  as  our  engage- 
ment, having  been  completed  January  i,  1850. 
The  wildness  of  the  storm  prevented  many 
guests  from  attending  the  wedding.  The 
bridges  were  flooded,  but  one  became  passable 
in  time  for  us  to  reach  our  train.  The  state 
of  the  weather  made  little  difference  to  us,  but 
it  must  have  made  the  day  a  sad  one  to  my 
family.  They  were  never  reconciled  to  our 
living  so  far  from  them,  and  offered  us  many 
inducements  to  live  in  Cambridge.  In  1852, 
my  aunt,  Miss  Donnison,  built  the  house  on 


14  JOSHUA   A.    SWAN 

Berkeley  Street  expressly  for  us.  It  was  leased 
on  condition  that  it  should  be  given  up  when- 
ever we  desired  it.  Owing  in  part  to  her  per- 
suasions, and  partly  from  some  feeling  of  dis- 
couragement, Mr.  Swan  offered  his  resignation 
in  1853,  but  so  urgent  were  the  entreaties  of 
his  parishioners  that  he  consented  to  remain. 

I  approved  of  his  decision,  for  I  knew  that 
his  heart  was  in  his  work.  My  family  were 
much  disappointed,  especially  my  aunt  Cather- 
ine. But  she  thought  more  of  our  happiness 
than  of  her  own,  and  when  a  good  house  was 
for  sale  in  Kennebunk  she  bought  and  re- 
paired it  for  us.  We  moved  into  it  in  the  fall 
of  1858.  Our  first  house  was  in  a  lonely  situ- 
ation, but  the  years  passed  there  were  happy 
ones.  Elizabeth  Quincy  was  born  September 
27,  1853.  A  little  girl  came  in  1857,  to  breathe 
and  moan  a  few  hours  and  then  pass  away.  In 
his  diary  my  husband  says,  "  I  call  her  Edith." 
William  Donnison  was  born  January  i,  1859, 
Margaret  Manning,  July  19,  1862,  and  Olive 
Maria,  April  15,  1864. 

The  minister's  salary  was  $800  at  first,  af- 
terwards raised  to  $i,ojo.  But  when  the  war 
came  in  1861,  reducing  the  incomes  of  many, 
he  insisted  on  having  his  salary  reduced.     He 


yOSHUA   A.    SWAN  1 5 

thought  little  about  what  he  received  ;  he  gave 
himself.  The  kindness  of  my  father  and  of  my 
aunt  (my  "  fairy  godmother,"  as  I  often  called 
her)  were  continually  felt  in  our  home,  and 
their  own  house  was  open  to  us  at  all  times, 
and  so,  too,  was  the  dear  old  home  in  Lowell. 

When  your  father  was  weary  with  overmuch 
writing  and  preaching  and  consoling,  nature 
always  refreshed  him,  and  whole  days  were 
often  passed  at  the  seashore  or  on  the  banks 
of  the  Mousam  River.  Sometimes  he  took 
longer  journeys.  The  first  summer  of  our 
marriage,  my  father  took  us  to  the  White 
Mountains,  and  he  often  invited  my  husband 
to  travel  with  him.  After  the  war  was  over, 
they  visited  Washington,  and  went  to  Antie- 
tam  and  other  battle-grounds.  In  1866,  we 
went  with  a  party  of  friends  to  Niagara  and 
Montreal,  a  journey  full  of  interest  to  us  both. 

In  winter,  books  were  our  great  resource, 
and  the  evenings  never  seemed  long  while 
your  father  read  aloud.  Many  volumes  of 
Ruskin,  Motley,  Carlyle,  Froude,  and  others 
are  associated  with  those  happy  times.  For, 
though  often  weary  and  at  times  discouraged, 
he  was  always  happy  in  his  devotion  to  his 
family  and  his  people  and  his  work,  until  his 


1 6  JOSHUA   A.    SIVA  A' 

health,  which  had  been  so  uniform  that  he  never 
had  missed  a  service  of  any  kind,  began  to  fail 
in  1867.  He  then  suffered  from  what  seemed 
to  be  dyspepsia,  but  persisted  in  his  usual  rou- 
tine of  work  until  extreme  weakness  forced 
him  to  give  it  up. 

On  the  28th  of  May,  1868,  the  parish  voted 
to  give  him  six  months'  leave  of  absence.  We 
went  to  Lowell  and  to  Cambridge,  and  con- 
sulted Dr.  Wyman  and  Dr.  Hodges.  Part  of 
the  summer  was  spent  at  the  seashore  in  Bev- 
erly, where  he  formed  a  friendship  with  Pro- 
fessor Spencer  F.  Baird,  with  whom  he  then, 
and  also  at  a  later  period,  enjoyed  some  scien- 
tific explorations.  He  was  always  cheerful  and 
uncomplaining,  but  he  did  not  gain  in  health. 

On  August  20,  he  went  to  my  brother's, 
where  he  received  every  possible  attention,  but 
became  more  and  more  feeble  and  almost  help- 
less. A  voyage  to  Europe  had  been  long 
talked  of,  but  it  seemed  a  doubtful  expedient. 
Now  it  was  the  only  one  left  to  try,  and  he 
himself  became  anxious  to  go.  His  brother 
Charles,  just  entering  on  the  practice  of  medi-  . 
cine,  and  just  engaged  to  be  married,  con- 
sented to  leave  all  and  go  with  him.  My 
father  and  my  aunt  offered  to  pay  their  ex- 


JOSHUA  A.    SWAN  17 

penses.  I  was  to  remain  at  my  father's  with 
our  three  little  girls,  and  William  was  sent  to 
Mr.  Mack's  school  at  Belmont. 

Three  days  before  the  appointed  day  of  sail- 
ing (September  3),  your  father's  condition  be- 
came so  alarming  that  I  entreated  to  be  allowed 
to  go  with  him.  My  dear  parents  consented 
to  take  charge  of  our  children,  and  my  aunt 
assumed  the  added  expense. 

On  the  way  to  New  York,  your  father  be- 
came totally  blind,  and  could  not  stand  alone. 
On  reaching  the  steamer  Aleppo,  he  was  car- 
ried to  the  state-room,  which  was  on  deck,  and 
lay  there  three  days  as  helpless  as  an  infant 
Then  he  roused  and  asked  to  be  taken  to  the 
open  deck,  and  went,  supported  by  Charles  and 
the  steward.  After  that  he  went  out  every 
day,  gaining  rapidly  in  strength.  During  this 
period  of  prostration  he  composed  the  verses 
called  "  At  Sea,"  which  are  appended  to  this 
memorial.  He  also  dictated  his  diary  to 
Charles,  and  at  a  later  period  copied  it  out. 
When  we  entered  the  British  Channel,  he  could 
walk  and  see,  and  went  to  a  concert  in  Liver- 
pool the  day  we  landed,  September  17.  After 
a  few  days  of  rest  at  Chester,  we  went  to  lodg- 
ings in  Leamington,  and  made  excursions  to 


1 8  JOSHUA   A.    SWAN 

Warwick,  Kenilworth,  and  Stratford-on-Avon. 
In  London  he  was  able  to  walk  about  with 
Charles,  and  in  Paris  he  improved  still  more. 
Here  we  consulted  Dr.  Brown-Sequard,  who 
gave  much  encouragement  in  regard  to  his  re- 
covery. After  spending  a  few  days  in  Geneva, 
we  went  by  rail  to  Nice,  drove  in  a  carriage 
over  the  Cornice  Road  to  Genoa,  thence  by 
steamer  to  Leghorn,  to  visit  Pisa,  and  contin- 
ued by  sea  to  Naples,  where  we  spent  a  month 
in  sunny  rooms  on  the  Chiaia,  opposite  the 
park  which  was  then  called  the  Villa  Reale. 
We  tramped  through  the  Pompeiian  streets 
and  ascended  Mt.  Vesuvius.  We  then  went  to 
Rome,  where  your  father  was  the  most  ener- 
getic of  the  party,  walking  and  driving  every 
day,  and  keeping  his  pictorial  diary,  which  I 
have  in  eight  small  volumes. 

On  January  22,  1869,  he  sent  to  his  parish 
a  letter  of  resignation,  which  was  acted  on  at 
the  next  annual  meeting  of  the  society,  when 
"  they  reluctantly  yielded  their  assent  to  the 
dissolution  of  a  union  maintained  so  many 
years  with  uninterrupted  harmony,  with  so 
much  benefit  to  the  people." 

We  were  a  month  in  Rome,  and  another 
happy  month  in  Florence,  and  after  a  week  of 


JOSHUA   A.    SWAN  1 9 

delight  in  Venice,  we  went  by  the  Brenner 
Pass  to  Munich  and  Dresden  and  Heidelberg; 
then  to  Paris,  London,  Liverpool,  and  sailed 
on  April  27  in  the  China,  which  bore  us 
swiftly  home  in  eight  days,  the  shortest  pas- 
sage that  had  ever  then  been  made. 

To  return,  bringing  my  husband  restored  to 
health,  and  finding  all  our  dear  ones  well,  was 
a  wonderful  termination  to  that  journey,  be- 
gun with  such  sad  forebodings.  We  could 
never  be  grateful  enough  to  those  who  made 
it  possible,  and  the  recollection  of  it  was  always 
a  great  source  of  pleasure  to  us. 

The  summer  of  1869  we  spent  in  Kenne- 
bunk,  preparing  to  leave  our  house  for  the  new 
minister,  Mr.  Vinal,  to  occupy.  In  November, 
we  came  to  live  on  Berkeley  Street,  Cambridge. 
William  returned  to  Belmont  for  the  winter. 

Your  father  now  sought  for  some  literary  or 
scientific  appointment,  and  obtained  the  posi- 
tion of  secretary  of  the  Boston  Natural  His- 
tory Society.  He  entered  upon  his  new  du- 
ties May  II,  1870.  The  study  of  botany  and 
entomology  had  long  been  his  recreation. 
Now  that  his  pastime  had  become  a  matter  of 
business,  he  took  it  up  with  his  usual  assiduity. 
There  was  often   a  pressure  of    work  which 


20  JOSHUA  A.   SWAN 

kept  him  late  at  night,  and  he  overtasked  his 
strength.  He  refused  to  take  a  vacation  the 
first  summer,  and  continued  at  his  post  during 
an  excessively  hot  season.  The  following 
summer  (1871),  he  went  off"  on  a  little  trip  to 
the  woods  of  Maine  with  Mr.  John  Bartlett, 
and  enjoyed  it,  but  when  he  attempted  to  re- 
sume his  work  he  was  quite  unfit  for  it.  His 
old  symptoms  returned,  and  medicines  did  not 
relieve  them.  On  the  7th  of  October,  1871, 
he  left  his  desk  in  the  library  of  the  Natural 
History  Society,  never  to  return  to  it.  As  a 
voyage  had  restored  him  before,  we  hoped  it 
might  again,  and  my  father,  ever  ready  with 
help  in  time  of  need,  went  with  us,  October  14, 
to  New  York,  intending  to  take  us  to  Cuba. 
But  Dr.  Hammond,  whom  we  consulted  in 
New  York,  though  giving  much  encourage- 
ment of  his  recovery,  advised  us  to  return 
home,  which  we  did  on  October  21.  His  ex- 
treme weakness  made  the  journey  a  painful 
one.  He  failed  rapidly.  Our  devoted  friend, 
Miss  Charlotte  E.  Hatch,  came  from  Kenne- 
bunk,  to  help  me  nurse  him,  and  his  mother 
and  sisters  came  at  his  request  two  days  before 
his  death.  His  brother  and  mine  and  Dr.  Wy- 
man  attended  him.     His  weakness  was  such 


JOSHUA   A.   SWAN  21 

that  he  said  little ;  but  whenever  he  spoke  it 
was  cheerfully  and  with  a  smile,  bidding  us 
not  be  troubled,  for  he  was  perfectly  happy. 
When  I  said  that  the  children  were  good,  he 
exclaimed:  "  Yes,  I  do  think  we  have  a  beauti- 
ful family  of  children,  and  if  I  should  not  live 
a  week,  I  should  feel  that  I  have  had  all  the 
blessings  and  happiness  I  could  ask  in  this 
life."  Half  unconscious,  he  murmured,  "  Can 
I  be  of  any  service }  "  "  Remember  I  am  here 
for  them,  not  for  myself,"  and  then  he  inquired 
about  some  invalids  at  Kennebunk.  His  last 
thoughts  were  with  those  to  whom  the  best 
of  his  life  had  been  given. 

He  passed  quietly  away  October  31,  1871. 
His  disease  was  an  organic  affection  of  the 
stomach. 

The  numerous  expressions  of  sympathy  and 
esteem,  and  the  resolutions  passed  by  various 
societies,  proved  that  the  beauty  of  his  char- 
acter had  been  appreciated  by  many. 

You,  my  dear  children,  were  too  young  fully 
to  understand  your  loss,  but  not  to  retain  a 
loving  remembrance  of  your  father.  I  trust 
that  this  little  memorial  will  keep  it  fresh  for 
you,  and  will  give  to  your  children  some  faint 
image  of  his  rare  personality. 


2  2  yOSHUA   A.    SWAN 

And  yet,  in  so  slight  a  sketch  it  is  difficult 
to  convey  the  true  impression  of  his  life. 
Though  so  retired  and  unambitious,  it  was 
full  and  rich  both  in  what  he  received  and 
what  he  gave.  His  love  of  nature  and  his 
love  of  books  were  resources  from  which 
he  constantly  derived  happiness,  and  no  one 
could  appreciate  more  than  he  did  the  joys 
of  home  and  family  love. 

His  warm  interest  in  the  people  of  his  par- 
ish made  his  relations  with  them  very  inti- 
mate. He  paid  little  attention  to  external  ap- 
pearances, but  could  perceive  beneath  them 
the  real  personality  of  each  one.  Such  recog- 
nition always  meets  with  a  response,  and  forms 
a  bond  of  mutual  sympathy. 

The  children  were  especially  dear  to  him. 
Some  of  the  little  ones,  whom  he  at  first  took 
in  his  arms,  grew  up  and  were  married  by  him, 
and  almost  seemed  to  belong  to  him. 

It  cost  him  great  pain  to  sever  all  these  ties 
and  to  give  up  his  chosen  work.  If  his  life 
sometimes  seemed  monotonous  or  wanting  in 
intellectual  stimulus,  he  did  not  despond.  The 
spirit  of  contentment  was  one  of  his  most 
charming  characteristics,  and  it  always  made 
an  atmosphere  of  happiness  around  him. 


JOSHUA   A.    SWAN  23 

The  keynote  of  his  life  was  the  love  of  God 
and  trust  in  His  fatherly  care.  In  his  sermons 
he  dwells  on  this  theme.  His  life  was  inspired 
by  it,  and  so  became  an  inspiration  to  others, 
leaving  behind  an  influence  that  may  still  be 
felt,  even  if  unrecognized. 

May  it  prove  a  blessing  to  his  children  and 

his  children's  children ! 

Sarah  H.  Swan. 
Cambridge,  1893. 


COMMEMORATIVE    NOTICES. 


BOSTON    SOCIETY   OF    NATURAL    HISTORY. 

On  Wednesday,  November  i,  187 1,  the  President, 
after  the  following  remarks,  adjourned  the  meet- 
ing:— 

"  I  know  not  how  to  utter  the  deep  grief  I  feel,  and 
which  I  know  is  shared  by  you  all,  in  the  death  of 
our  dear  companion,  Rev.  J.  A.  Swan,  the  secretary 
of  this  society.  No  one,  I  am  sure,  who  has  had  the 
pleasure  of  personal  intercourse  with  him  but  will 
feel  that  he  has  lost  a  near  and  dear  friend.  To  me, 
his  presence,  even,  has  always  seemed  a  benediction. 
I  do  not  think  I  ever  was  so  much  impressed  by  the 
personal  character  of  any  man  with  whom  I  have 
come  in  contact  as  with  that  of  Mr.  Swan.  He 
seemed  always  overflowing  with  love  for,  and  a  desire 
to  aid,  all  about  him.  What  might  excite  in  other 
men  feelings  of  anger  or  bitterness  moved  him  only 
to  sorrow,  and  no  one  was  ever  more  charitable  in 
his  judgments  of  the  acts  of  others.  Truly,  we 
have  lost  from   our  circle  a  man   devoid  of  guile, 


JOSHUA   A.    SWAN  25 

upright  in  conduct,  lovable  beyond  expression,  pure 
in  heart,  and  faithful  in  every  duty." 
The  following  resolution  was  passed  :  — 
"  Resolved,  That  in  the  death  of  Mr.  Swan,  the 
society  recognizes  the  loss  of  not  only  a  highly  effi- 
cient officer  and  member,  but  of  an  associate  greatly 
respected  for  his  attainments  as  a  scholar,  admired 
for  his  noble  qualities  as  a  gentleman,  and  loved  for 
his  manly  virtues  as  a  man  and  a  Christian." 


EXTRACTS  FROM  RESOLUTIONS  PASSED  BY  THE 
FIRST  CONGREGATIONAL  PARISH  IN  KENNEBUNK, 
NOVEMBER    1 6,     1 8/ 1. 

''Resolved,  That  we,  the  members  of  this  Parish, 
sincerely  mourn  the  loss  we  have  sustained  in  the 
death  of  Rev.  Joshua  A.  Swan,  the  minister  over 
this  Parish  for  so  many  years,  which  witnessed  in 
him  an  ever-expanding  love  and  a  deep,  unreserved 
devotion  for  his  people.  To  him  they  returned  their 
fullest  confidence  and  most  affectionate  regard.  .  .   . 

"  The  benignant  character  of  God  manifest  in  man 
and  in  nature  was  the  theme  on  which  he  most  de- 
lighted to  dwell,  with  an  earnest  zeal  and  solemn 
eloquence  which  commanded  the  attention  of  his 
hearers.  ...  In  the  discharge  of  his  parochial 
duties  he  was  unsurpassed.  ...  To  serve  and  work 
for  others  was  the  dearest  object  of  his  life." 


26  JOSHUA   A.   SWAN 

FROM    THE    CHRISTIAN    REGISTER. 

Fro7n  Editorial  Notice. 

"Mr.  Swan  was  one  of  those  rare  men  who  join  a 
certain  sweetness  of  character  and  life  with  a  most 
conscientious  fidelity,  and  whose  memory  is  an  en- 
during possession  of  the  church. 

"  No  pastor  was  ever  more  welcome  to  the  homes 
of  his  parishioners,  or  more  faithful  in  the  discharge 
of  his  duties,  or  more  beloved  by  his  brethen  in  the 
ministry  who  had  the  good  fortune  to  know  him." 

From  Notice  by  Rev.  J.  T.  G.  Nichols. 

"  He  was  one  of  the  manliest  of  men,  at  the  same 
time  one  of  the  most  tender  and  affectionate. 

"  He  remarked,  on  leaving  Kennebunk  for  his 
new  home  in  Cambridge,  that  one  of  his  greatest 
regrets  was  that  '  the  children  whom  he  met  would 
not  know  him.' 

"  For  much  of  his  power  in  the  pulpit  he  was 
indebted  to  his  winning  manners  out  of  it,  and  to 
the  much  he  knew  beyond  the  ordinary  range  of 
pulpit  topics.  .  .  .  But  it  was  his  heart  qualities 
that  perhaps  chiefly  distinguished  him.  He  made 
everybody  love  him.  Two  of  the  Beatitudes  had 
singular  application  to  him,  'Blessed  are  the  pure 
in  heart,'  and 'Blessed  are  the  peacemakers.'  His 
loving  smile  and  his  kind,  wise  word  in  season  had 
wonderful  power  to  disperse  cloudy  feelings  and  to 
allay  personal  irritations.     His  was  a  character  and 


JOSHUA   A.    SWAN  27 

life  on  which  those  of  us  who  best  knew  him  can 
dwell  without  a  shadow  of  pain  to  mar  our  recollec- 
tions." 

Front  Private  Letters. 

"  The  wonderful  sweetness  and  joyousness  of  his 
nature  have  been  a  blessed  lesson  to  many." 

"  How  many  pleasant  days  have  I  spent  with  him  ! 
In  weariness  and  weakness  I  found  no  more  effec- 
tual rest  and  refreshment  than  I  got  at  his  house. 
It  did  me  good  merely  to  come,  in  contact  with  his 
kindly  and  cheerful  spirit. 

"  Few  pastors  have  had  a  deeper  place  in  the 
hearts  of  their  people  than  he.  With  all  his  warm 
and  strong  sympathies  he  had  only  to  live  among 
people,  and  freely  act  out  his  nature,  to  be  all  that 
could  be  desired  in  that  relation." 

"  I  know  my  whole  life  is  richer  and  better  for 
having  known  him." 


SELECTIONS 


UNPUBLISHED    POEMS. 


THE  SONG  OF  THE  SOUTH  WIND. 

A    FOURTH    OF   JULY    ODE, 

I  COME  forth  from  the  Caribbees, 
Those  islands  resting  on  the  seas, 

Where  summer  reigns  undying  ; 
Where  the  soft  malaria  breathes  its  blast, 
And  the  hurricane  goes  shrieking  past 
While  the  palm-tree  bends  its  lofty  mast. 

And  the  orange  groves  are  sighing. 

My  way  is  over  seas  afar, 
Through  flowery  vales  of  Florida. 

And  across  the  rice  plantation. 
And  mournful,  oh,  mournful,  is  the  song, 
Breathing  of  wretchedness  and  wrong, 
I  've  learned  while  journeying  along 

This  birthday  of  the  nation. 

For,  ever  as  I  floated  on 
Beneath  the  red  and  burning  sun, 

I  heard  a  voice  of  wailing. 
It  echoed  sadly  to  and  fro 
Along  the  Gulf  of  Mexico, 
Where  Mississippi's  waters  flow, 

Downward  to  ocean  sailing. 


32  yOSHUA   A.   SWAN 

And  where  Potomac's  ripples  fall 
In  the  shadow  of  the  Capitol, 

The  ear  of  mercy  paining, 
Voices  of  bitterness  and  woe ; 
Not  loud  and  wild,  but  whispered  low, 
Such  sounds  as  to  the  deep  heart  go. 

As  of  a  child  complaining. 

I  saw  God's  image  bought  and  sold 
For  pieces  of  the  shining  gold. 

And  like  the  dumb  kine  driven. 
Upon  his  soul  they  put  a  spell 
That  to  him  it  might  never  tell 
He  was  of  those  whom  God  loved  well. 

And  was  an  heir  of  heaven. 

I  saw  a  mother  in  the  mart 

Beg  for  the  child,  with  broken  heart, 

That  from  her  breast  was  taken. 
And  I  breathed  a  sigh  above  her  there  ; 
She  gazed  towards  the  sky  so  fair, 
And  prayed  a  wild  and  raving  prayer. 

Like  a  creature  God-forsaken. 

Yet  still  from  lake  to  ocean's  shore 
I  hear  the  booming  cannon  roar 

In  one  continuous  thunder. 
And  church-bells  fling  their  jangled  lay 
O'er  roofs  and  tree-tops  far  away,  — 
Not  as  they  call  on  the  Sabbath  day 

With  the  prayerful  stillness  under. 


yOSHUA   A.   SWAN  33 

Sound  ye  the  clanging  bell  no  more  ; 
Bid  hush  the  cannon's  sullen  roar  ; 

Their  din  is  idly  given. 
And  shout  no  more  for  liberty  ; 
Ye  are  not,  never  can  be  free 
Until  the  curse  of  slavery 

Forth  from  the  land  be  driven. 

Send  down  the  flag  from  every  mast, 
So  proudly  courting  heaven's  blast ! 

It  should  trail  sad  and  lowly ! 
The  stars  and  stripes  in  mocking  wave  : 
Stars  for  the  free,  stripes  for  the  slave ; 
His  benison  God  never  gave 

To  a  union  so  unholy. 

Your  church-spire  points  in  its  mute  love 
Beyond  the  eternal  stars  above, 

A  guide  to  wanderers  given. 
But  southward  steady  looks  the  vane. 
And  bids  ye  hear  the  clanking  chain, 
And  tells  of  woe  and  want  and  pain 

As  that  tells  ye  of  heaven. 

Oh,  ever  as  the  south  wind  swells, 
List  to  the  warning  word  it  tells, 

Nor  in  the  good  cause  falter. 
Or  a  rising  storm-cloud  ye  may  see, 
Whose  bolt  will  shatter  Freedom's  tree. 
Whose  flood  will  quench  eternally 

The  flame  on  freedom's  altar. 
Cambridge,  October  j,  1848. 


34  yOSHUA  A.   SWAN 


THE   EQUINOX. 

All  day  long  the  wind  and  rain 
Have  dashed  upon  the  window  pane, 
And  damp  mists  gather  on  the  glass, 
Which  stop  the  light  that  fain  would  pass. 

There  is  no  blue  ;  but  clouds  of  lead 
Drag  low  and  sullen  overhead  ; 
A  spectre-mist  comes  from  the  sea 
Like  a  great  bird  flying  heavily ; 

And  weaves  its  web  round  hill-tops  gray, 
Stalks  through  the  woods,  nor  bends  a  spray ; 
And  now  it  lifts,  and  now  subsides. 
Like  the  ebb  and  flow  of  ocean  tides. 

The  wind  sighs  sadder  in  the  pine. 
And  heavier  hangs  the  dripping  vine ; 
The  brooklet  in  its  deep,  dark  bed 
Only  mirrors  a  sky  of  lead. 

The  beggar  hugs  his  ragged  cloak 
To  shield  him  from  the  tempest  stroke  ; 
And  patient  cattle  crowd  together 
In  the  dull  and  dreary  weather. 

Now  cleaves  the  cold  mist  to  the  ground 
And  nought  is  visible  around ; 


JOSHUA  A.   SWAN  35 

And  nought  is  heard  but  rustling  leaves, 
And  dull  rain  dropping  from  the  eaves. 

The  storm's  dark  spirit  o'er  me  broods 
Like  mist  above  the  drooping  woods  ; 
And  thoughts  that  quicken  'neath  her  wing 
Are  of  the  note  herself  doth  sing. 

So  as  the  vine  droops  from  the  wall, 
As  mournfully  the  raindrops  fall, 
My  cheerful  thoughts  droop  in  their  play, 
And  my  better  feelings  shrink  away. 

And  in  my  soul  is  mirrored  nought 
Of  the  stormy  day,  but  stormy  thought : 
Of  hearts  that  yearn,  fates  that  deny 
The  praying  earth,  and  leaden  sky. 

Kennebunk,  October  4,  184^. 


LONGINGS. 

We  will  be  strong,  whatever  fate  hang  o'er  us ; 

In  noble  purpose  and  in  truth  confide, 
And  when  heart-joys  ebb  mournfully  before  us 

Will  wait  with  patience  the  returning  tide. 

We  will  be  strong ;  nor  in  the  night  of  sorrow 
Be  bowed  to  earth  as  hoping  no  relief. 

There  is  no  night  but  it  shall  have  a  morrow, 
And  joy  may  penetrate  the  depths  of  grief. 

We  sigh  for  truer  sympathy  ;  we  weary 

Of  formal  friends  whose  hearts  beat  not  with  ours  ; 

Beneath  their  look  the  world  seems  dull  and  dreary, 
Cold  are  its  hills,  and  leafless  are  its  bowers. 

We  would  be  loved  with  pure  and  fond  affection, 
Which  knows  no  shade  of  change  and  fears  for 
nought, 

And  when  alone  would  have  the  recollection 
That  kindly  ones  are  with  us  still  in  thought ; 

Would  have  one  bosom  in  whose  deep  recesses 
The  thoughts  we  long  to  speak  may  garnered  be  ; 

The  holy  secrets  which  the  heart  confesses 
There  only,  where  it  loves  most  tenderly. 


yOSHUA  A.   SWAN  37 

The  soul  should  tell  its  wants,  its  aspirations, 
That  it  may  hear  some  sympathetic  tone  ; 

We  gain  redoubled  strength  by  these  vibrations 
Of  thoughts  which  are,  and  yet  are  not,  our  own. 

Bright  scenes  of  beauty,  with  their  mute  appealings, 
Invite  us  to  put  on  their  happy  mood. 

But  sadly  beautiful  are  such  revealings 
To  him  who  worships  them  in  solitude. 

Perchance  it  may  not  be  ;  the  things  we  cherish 
Like  shadows  may  appear,  then  pass  away ; 

We  will  not  droop,  though  all  our  best  hopes  perish, 
But  wait  the  dawning  of  a  better  day. 

We  will  be  strong,  will  calm  the  heart's  emotion 
With  thoughts  of  high  emprise  and  valorous  strife  ; 

If  what  we  long  for  may  not  be  our  portion. 
Our  longings  still  will  lead  to  nobler  life. 

Then,  soul,  be  brave  !     Thou  hast  thy  work  and  sta- 
tion. 

Thou  hast  thy  task  to  do,  thy  prize  to  win. 
And  be  thy  thought  that  this  sublime  creation 

Is  more  sublime  that  thou  hast  lived  therein. 


CHRISTMAS    FESTIVAL. 

FIRST    PARISH,  KENNEBUNK,    1 865. 

Another  year,  through  changing  days, 

Its  rapid  course  has  rolled, 
And  now  we  bring  our  songs  of  praise 

For  mercies  manifold. 

From  giant  wrong,  Thou,  God,  hast  wrought 

Our  country's  glad  release  ; 
Out  of  confusion,  order  brought. 

From  strife  and  bloodshed,  peace. 

And  when  our  way  with  fear  was  dark, 

And  harsh  seemed  duty's  call, 
'Twas  strength  to  know  that  Thou  dost  mark 

The  sparrows  when  they  fall. 

When  oft  our  hearts  felt  all  their  pains 

For  those  gone  on  before. 
We  seemed  to  hear  triumphal  strains 

Sound  from  some  brighter  shore. 

To  Thee  our  grateful  songs  we  raise. 
Who,  through  the  Christ  hast  given. 

Amid  these  toiling,  earthly  ways. 
Such  gleams  of  love  and  heaven. 


AT   SEA,  SEPTEMBER,   1868. 

One  solitary  ship  upon  the  heaving  ocean 

Like  some  huge  sporting  monster  leaps  and  rolls, 

Yet  bears  serenely,  'mid  the  wild  commotion. 

This  precious  freight,  —  two  hundred  living  souls. 

Above,  I  see  the  sails,  with  full  inflation, 

Wooing  the  breeze  which  wafts  us  on  our  way  ; 

Below,  I  hear  the  mighty,  strong  vibration 
Of  iron  pulses  beating  night  and  day. 

I  see  the  master,  like  some  necromancer, 
His  sextant-sceptre  wield  with  playful  ease, 

And  bid  the  midday  sun  his  questions  answer, 
And  tell  the  curving  path  along  the  seas. 

I  know  that  in  his  solitary  quarters, 

Directed  by  the  compass'  guiding  wand, 

The  helmsman  keeps  his  way  along  the  waters. 
And  holds  the  toiling  ship  in  full  command. 

I  hear,  with  rapid,  double  intonations, 

Announce  how  quick  the  hours  their  measure  fill, 
The  bell,  which  calls  the  watchers  to  their  station. 

To  keep  the  course,  and  shun  each  threatening  ill. 


40  yOSHUA   A.   SWAN 

What  though  the  clouds  send  down  their  wild  defi- 
ance, 

And  stir  to  foaming  wrath  the  waters  blue, 
The  iron  heart  still  beats  in  calm  reliance. 

The  opposing  waves  divide,  and  we  pass  through. 

Yet  not  alone  to  skill  of  man  defending 
We  trust,  to  iron  hearts,  nor  iron  wall. 

For  over  land  and  sea  one  heaven  is  bending, 
And  God's  good  providence  is  keeping  all. 

Oh,  wondrous  thought  of  providential  guiding, 
Thus,  Father,  blending  with  our  earthly  lot ; 

Though  tossed  on  seas  or  in  strange  lands  abiding, 
We  cannot  go  where  thy  dear  love  is  not. 


LONDON.i 

Up  to  my  chamber  door 

Is  borne  the  mingled  roar 
Of  this  great  town,  —  the  clattering  of  many  feet, 

The  market  cries,  the  knells 

Of  hours  on  deep-mouthed  bells. 
The  iron  hoofs  and  wheels  upon  the  stony  street. 

And,  mingled  in  with  these 

Wild,  stormy  symphonies, 
I  hear  the  undertones  of  household  love  and  care, 

The  sounds  of  home,  the  wild 

Exuberance  of  the  child. 
The  infant's  prattle,  and    the   old    man's   grateful 
prayer. 

Sounds  Rachel's  cry  distressed, 

More  keen  because  suppressed  ; 
Ambition's  shout,  which  youthful  hearts  undaunted 
raise : 

And  from  the  storied  aisles 

Of  old  cathedral  piles 
The  organ's  surging  notes  of  penitence  and  praise. 

1  Written  at  sea,  May  4,  i86g. 


42  JOSHUA   A.   SWAN 

And  from  the  crowded  lairs 
In  sunless  thoroughfares, 
Where  crime  and  want  and   sorrow  have  untiring 
birth, 
Ascends  the  mournful  cry 
Of  pain  and  misery, 
The  gambler's  oath,   the  drunkard's  wild,  delirious 
mirth. 

So,  O  great  town,  my  sense 
Takes  in  thy  voice  immense, 

Which,  like  the  smoky  cloud  above  thee,  lifts  and 
floats  ; 
It  is  a  braided  band 
Of  many  a  different  strand, 

A  mighty  diapason  of  many  changing  notes. 

With  day,  in  murmurs  low, 

Begins  that  tidal  flow 
Whose  crowding  waves  with  resonance  the  city  fill ; 

They  swell  and  rage  and  beat. 

And  drown  each  lane  and  street, 
Then,  past  the  midnight  hour,  retire,  and  all  is  still. 


937.73 
bw24 


TIB' 

0035519673 


